


Home's Where I'm Going

by findyourselfinpassion



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Grinding, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findyourselfinpassion/pseuds/findyourselfinpassion
Summary: basically Jean coming into his own, pondering what the new year means to him and celebrating it with Jeremy.





	Home's Where I'm Going

He didn’t mind it so much anymore, the parties. Ever since the summer, ever since the first week all of the other students flocked back to campus and undid their hazy summer workings for their college buzz, Jean had transitioned from passive bystander to a regular commoner. It took awhile, and even longer to relax enough to fully enjoy them, but parties were fun, especially parties hosted by the Trojans. 

The room pulsed with sweaty bodies and throbbing music, the atmosphere a chaotic compilation of lights, sound, lust and alcohol colliding with a college stamina to keep everything flowing, if not tumbling. 

He was acutely aware that New Year's meant more than those frivolous nights of passion and escape in a dorm room or in the basement of a house; it meant a clean slate, figuratively speaking at least. It meant the beginning of a year dedicated mostly to himself- no Riko, no Nest and no Evermore lurking in the corners and draped around his neck. He had made it this far, a whole year since Josten, since those fated two weeks where he had been the other man’s temporary partner, which meant a half of year of freedom and the promise of a lifetime to come. 

“Jean,” Alvarez dragged out, her careless smile tying in nicely with her midnight black dress as she swung around to face him, all feline in grace. “Jeremy has been looking for you ever since ten.”

It was supposed to masquerade themed, and some had risen to the challenged while others took it as an excuse to just dress up nice and apologize with “I forgot the mask” whenever anyone brought up their lack of costume. Jean was one of latter; any excuse to dress up was a plausible one, but he didn’t see the need to hide himself, not when he had stood in the shadows of others for most of his life. 

“Great.”

“Awe, babe,” Her eyes flickered to the living room where most of the crowd had gathered to dance and writhe, the music so loud the bass was the only logical thing anyone coherent could really hear. “Don’t be like that.” 

He looked her over quickly, all liquid limbs and solid muscle packed neatly together into a female figure. Laila was lucky. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

There was nothing to say, Jean knew that logically, but it still slipped out of his mouth nonetheless and Alvarez caught it. Yet she held up her hands in surrender, leaning over where he stood against the half wall that acted as a bar between the living room and kitchen, and stole two empty shot glasses and a bottle of amber whiskey.

The liquid sloshed on the floor where she dragged the tilted bottle over the gap from one glass to the other with no regard to the potential mess and mustered up the most serious face she could with the amount of alcohol in her system, “To the unsaid.” 

He downed it as soon as they clicked glasses. 

“So,” she hummed, starting the second round as carelessly as the first, “It’s almost midnight.”

“And?”

“And,” she glared up at him, leaning forward on her forearms across the wall to stare him down, “That means hook ups. I’ve already scouted out a few contenders for you, since you’re too dense to do it yourself.” She flicked her fingers in the air and stood back up, shot in hand. “You’re welcome.” 

“Not interested.”

“You’re impossible.” 

When the second shot was finished, they talked for awhile before she patted him on the chest and flittered off to go find Laila, who he had last seen in the back room monopolizing the ping pong table. 

Time past easily as he moved in and out of the fray, stopping to talk to strangers and to chuckle with teammates. But even when Jean found himself completely surrounded, he felt steadily at ease with the masses. It was something the Trojans had taught him, to relax and to trust, to grow into the person he didn’t realize he longed to be. Months of turmoil and animosity had given way to a leveled tension, something key in development and honing skills his new teammates soon learned. It was nice.

Someone was pushing the furniture even further back against the wall somewhere around eleven thirty to make room for the impending crowd gathering around the Tv when Jean’s eyes caught Jeremy. Something burned deep within him when he had caught sight of the outfit the captain had put together for himself this evening, something blistering black and accented by the sharpest silver that matched well against his golden skin and bright complexion. In a very Jeremy Know fashion, he smiled politely as he excused himself around bodies and wild limbs, the lights bounced off of his grin like the sun off a piece of glass- glinting and hot. It took him no time at all to find Jean’s stare. 

There was a time that he had resented himself for it, for wanting, but that was also something he had been working on; wanting. 

The air trembled with a dangerous energy as he made his way over to the wall Jean had propped himself against next to the group of sophomores he had been talking to. It was a force that had grown taut and electric sometime around halloween, after the nightmares that Jeremy’s steady voice had edged him out of it with careful hands, only to be heighten gradually over the next few weeks. The shared glances over the table at breakfast or during practice, the easy camaraderie that ensued thereafter, the midnight talks...

“Jeremy.” He allowed himself the pleasure of looking him up and down, extending his partially empty glass in forgiveness.

Jeremy grinned and Jean’s fingers twitched as Jeremy took the glass and set it on the side table behind him, “Avoiding me?”

“How did you know?” He didn’t smile, but he hoped Jeremy found the teasing smirk in the corner of his mouth. 

He did.

They chatted nonsense for a while as the party continued to unfold and reorganize itself around the time; the music was getting louder, all of the TV’s had been turned on and people were beginning to gather in large groups around them. By then, it was too hard to hear over the drunk and buzzing party goers so they people watched until Jeremy leaned close. 

“You wanna get out of here?” 

Instead of the quick remark that bubbled in the back of his mouth, Jean nodded. “Yeah.”

All he had to do was to tip his head and, Jean knew exactly where they were going, moving out of the living room and half kitchen towards the side of the house where the stairs were located.

“You’re going to miss it,” Jean yelled over the chaos of the noise as he followed Jeremy out of the tandem of the first floor and up to the second. 

Jeremy laughed and shook his head, pausing to glance back at him only once before taking the stairs two at a time. It wouldn’t be the first time Jean had ran after Jeremy, the man unseemingly knowing his players to a tee and pushing them to go beyond what they thought capable. 

For all of the jokes and media interpretation of Jeremy as just an above average friendly guy and responsible captain, there was so much more to his character than just his flashy grin and warm demeanor. Over the course of the season, Jean was around to see that, to roll back the pain and primer of the cameras and head lines and truly see for himself the Trojan Court and its captain. And he was content to say he liked being a part of what was being built here with Knox as the spearhead.  
Unlike the bottom two floors, the second story was dimly lit and headily isolated. It wasn’t like anyone didn’t know what the upstairs was for, but neither wanted to bring attention to it as they passed closed doors and the muted sounds that came from within them.

In the end, Jeremy had guided them to the third bathroom of the house, separate from all of the rooms and hidden discretely between the corner of the hall and a closet.

No sooner than Jean had closed the door and clicked it closed, Jeremy was in his space, eyes excited and eager against the dark backdrop of the room. 

“Finally,” Jeremy sighed, his hands warm through the fabric of Jean’s suit as they found purchases, pulling Jean in eagerly before Jean would step away from the threshold.

It made him grin, the way Jeremy was a contradiction in himself. For all of his composure and smooth words and glances downstairs, he was a terrible player when it came to last second patience. This was old news, but it was new to Jean, new when it came to this. 

“It’s not midnight yet,” Jean chided quietly against his mouth, leaning in close enough that their breaths mingled but lips stayed untouched.

It was a sight to have a finely pressed Jeremy Knox clutching at him and tugging gently, his default state of calm and steady disturbed by desire. Jean has seen the man debauched numerous times before; after games, during night practices when it was just the two of them, the first time they kissed just a few weeks ago. But nothing, not even past escapes or memories, would ever be enough to truly prepare him when it came to a lustful version of captain sunshine.

It would only be fair to repay the favor of a stumbling pulse and static-filled mind.

“Jean-” he hissed, head tilting up looking for his mouth when Jean’s right hand soothed down the back of his suit to grab his ass, his left leg slotting between Jeremy’s pliant thighs.

Jeremy tugged and Jean followed him back, deeper into the space until the only place Jeremy could go was up onto the marble counter top of the sink. Regretfully, that meant Jean’s hand had to move somewhere else, but it also meant Jeremy could pull him in closer, could bracket his legs around Jean’s waist, hands could pull at his hair. 

And he did.

His hands melted against Jeremy’s athletic frame, fingertips catching on ridges of muscle while his palms smoothed out the ruffed jacket at his waist and collar. Thoughts wild even if his breathing stayed controlled, Jean pressed light kisses to Jeremy’s jaw, his neck, his pulse point- anywhere and everywhere he could reach that wasn’t his mouth. 

It was his heart, in the end, that betrayed him, the rising crescendo that built with each gasp and hum that escaped the Jeremy’s throat and chipped away his patience. 

Sitting on the counter proved to be useful to a flustered Jeremy, who soon realized that the hands in Jean’s hair could guide the other man’s head anywhere he wanted it to go with just a little force. 

Jean was lost somewhere between the juncture of his jaw and his throat when Jeremy had rearranged his hands to the frame his face, thumbs just under his jawline, and tilted.

And Jean almost fell for it, for Jeremy’s parted lips and hooded eyes as he leaned in...

He pulled back with millimeters to spare, smirking against Jeremy’s defeated hitch in breath.

“Be patient-”

There was a split second where their eyes met and Jean could see Jeremy thinking about something, mind working the same way it would out on the court; brow furrowed, determination running through every fiber of his body. And no sooner did he open his mouth to ask when Jeremy slid forward on the counter, one hand dropping back behind him to balance himself as his lower body met his in a slow grind. 

“Your body says otherwise,” Jeremy whispered against his mouth, keeping their heads close as he moved again, this time against Jean’s tentative thrust. 

He felt those vibrations echo throughout his entire framework right down to his patched soul, sparking the nerve endings in his fingertips that framed sturdy hips. His body ached to be against tanned skin, his teeth bit to be against a full mouth.

“You play dirty-”

The crowd below them started to count down in unison from what sounded like twenty and Jean’s pulse skipped within his chest as he rocked into Jeremy again, again. 

“It’s the only way I know how to get past you.”

The party erupted in cheers and a tune that sounded like it came out of the 90’s and Jean could feel the anticipation seize up within Jeremy, the way his legs squeezed around him, the way his hips stilled and hands softened. 

Because he had time, and because Jean knew they had both agonised for some time before coming to this, Jean waited. And he waited and waited until Jeremy opened his mouth to say something then closed the gap all at once.

Moments like this came in passing, fragments of time that only presented themselves under certain circumstances in very specific dimensions. The slide of his hands in this lifetime would counter the movement of a knife or maybe the exchangement of money in another. The thrum of his heartbeat in this moment would echo the pain of an adrenaline rush in a dark room with red shadows. 

Deals and redeals, orchestrators and the ones orchestrated. 

But when it came down to it, it didn’t matter- the possibilities of another life, the what if’s and how come’s of some distant theory in time. What matter was right now, in this small bathroom in the corner of some house in California on January first was Jeremy’s body against his, the way his hand cupped Jean’s face and drew him closer time and time again, his soul licking its way into Jean’s with every slide of his tongue.

He made it.

**Author's Note:**

> they are my children and I love them so much, don't mind any flaws that have come up through the writing.


End file.
